


Testosterone

by Aewin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (More like 'passive-aggressively gendering' but that's the closest tag there is), Age Difference, Creampie, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gender Dysphoria, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Manipulation, Misgendering, Needles, Painful Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Underage Sex, Power Imbalance, Pregnancy Scares, Self-Hatred, Sex for Favors, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Trans Dave Strider, Transgender, Unwanted Creampie, Vomit Mention, Whorephobia, toxic masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7456579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aewin/pseuds/Aewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when you're fingering out your brother's cum, you keep your face as neutral as possible.</p><p>Yeah, he's a little abusive, but... Guys can't get raped. Guys don't cry.</p><p>And you're a guy, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testosterone

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head fully-prewritten while I was in the shower. It has not been beta'd and may never be, but I may edit it if I feel the need. It's fucked up, and I won't pretend otherwise. I do not condone any of the activities in here IRL. 
> 
> Some elaboration on the tags: Dave is of-age, but Bro does refer to him as 'kid' and such. The 'misgendering' tag is more a case of 'passive-aggressively gendering,' if that makes a difference in your squick levels one way or another. Dave uses words like pussy, cunt, and clit for his own genitals.
> 
> This is labeled [Dead Dove: Do Not Eat](https://youtu.be/YUKmq7UMJys) for a reason. This means that you have absolutely no right to yell at me about the content, because I have clearly labeled it and I am telling you _right now_ to look at the tags and my elaborations above. This is entirely different if I miss a tag you think should be there, in which case I'm very sorry and I'll fix the problem if you let me know.

It's testosterone day. Every ten days, you should feel excited and grateful that you have this chance.

But you're really not, because you know what comes with it.

The cuckoo clock in the hallway goes off and you drag yourself away from job listings, out of your room and into Bro's, sidestepping the knife that pistons from the clock to mark each hour. (Rose tells you that's not normal, and suggests your brother should go to therapy. She offers to Skype with him herself, if he's not "amenable to more professional care." You imagine Rose facing down Bro. Ha. That is _not_ a thing that ever needs to happen, for the sake of everyone involved.)

He's got the needle out already, drawing up from the little bottle labeled "DAVID STRIDER: Testosterone Cyp 200MG/ML." You dig the distressingly small medkit out of his bedside drawer and pull out a bandaid and an alcohol swab. Striders don't use bandaids. The only reason he has them is so the T doesn't leak out after the shots.

You flop onto the edge of the bed, waiting for him to finish, wishing he'd just let you give yourself the injections.

He turns around, flicking the last bit of air out of the needle, and stops.

"Pants off, lil' dude. You know I can't get a good shot through those skinny jeans."

He can, or at least he could let you leave your undies on, but he _won't_ , because this is just how it goes every goddamn time. You lift your ass off the bed, peeling off the jeans and your packing trunks along with them. The wriggling rucks your binder up onto your stomach, and your packer nearly bounces into the smuppet pile. You swab your leg down with the alcohol and rip open the bandaid.

Bro gets down on his knees between your legs and blows on your thigh, ostensibly to dry the alcohol. It drifts across your pussy, and you clench instinctively.

"Hell, kid. Y'aint in polite company, might as well make yourself comfortable, take it all off. I know that shit itches."

Yeah, your binder _does_ itch, but you want it on anyways. Especially right now. But you don't have a choice.

"Thank you," you mumble. You know he expects it. 

You cross your arms down and over your stomach, grabbing the edges of your binder and shirt together and peeling the clinging spandex off. Sweat rolls off, a product of the sweltering Texas humidity and the heat the binder naturally holds in. Your boobs don't swing free, not really. They're already pressed down and to the side in an effort to minimize, but they do slowly move back to front and center despite years of pancaking with ACE bandages and binders proper. Your nipples poke out in a way you really didn't ask for right now, thank you very much.

"Damn, kid. Shots get you this excited? Didn't know you had a medical kink. Maybe I'll bring surgical knives next time."

Please, dear god, no.

"The shot, Bro."

"Right, right. Get those pretty lil' legs over here."

You scoot forward and brace yourself for the sting. He thrusts the needle into your thigh muscle so fast that it's a wonder he didn't overshoot it, but if there's one thing to be said for him it's that he's good with all manner of pointy things. You watch impassively as he slowly bottoms out the plunger and pulls out slowly. You quickly grab the bandaid and slap it on, wincing at all the hair it grabs onto. (Taking the bandaids off is the worst part of the vanilla shot experience. It's like pulling duct tape off a hamster, if your leg was a hamster.)

Bro tosses the needle over his shoulder. You'll probably step on it on your way out. But there are more immediate things to worry about. Like your big brother pushing you back on the bed, pinning you down with his weight and stroking along your hip while he kisses your jawline.

"Kid, I love takin' care of ya, y'know that, right?" His dick is hard in his pants already, and he frots against your naked pussy like he's determined to come in his pants. A pube gets caught on his zipper. Ow. 

Well fuck, you know where this is going anyways, might as well get that shit untangled and hop down the goddamn rabbit hole. You reach between you for his belt, pull it off, kiss him back on his stubbly, sweaty, whiskey-and-smoke-scented mouth, and start on his zipper.

"Christ, it's hot when you're all proactive and shit, makes me wanna get my gay on with my own lil' bro. Not that I mind. No sirree." He wriggles out of his pants and slides his ridiculous porn cock against your leg, leaking precum on your bandaid. Ew.

He mouths at your neck again, sliding a finger into your cunt. You can just feel the leather at your entrance - you asked him about it once and he said pussy juice was "a great way to keep the leather supple" - and just as you start to get used to it, he drills a second one inside of you without mercy.

"Fuck, give a guy a break. You know I'm tight on T."

"Yeah, it's pretty great."

"Bro, _please_."

"Well hell, didn't sound like you were ready yet, but if you insist." He fishes around in the same drawer as the medkit, rips a condom open, and rolls it right on down without looking. It's probably a Trojan Quintuple X or some shit. He uses the ones that are "ribbed for her pleasure," but he tells you he had them for his one-night stands at the bar, and it's not a jab at you in the slightest. You don't fucking believe him. As long as you've been taking T, doing this for him, he has to have burned through boxes of these things.

(God, has it been that long? Sure, you gave him a beej a few times before all this, to pay him back 'in installments' for your turntables and shit, but the more serious shit didn't start until he read that chatlog with John. When he offered to get you on T, you should have been suspicious. When he went with you to the gender therapist and acted like you were a normal family, used the right pronouns, you should have been suspicious. When he took you to get your name changed, you should have been suspicious. But you weren't. You were fucking _stupid_ , tempted by the siren call of transition. Note to self: never trust anyone, ever again.)

"It's a year and a half today kid, you excited?"

No. That means he's been fucking you for a year and a half.

"Sure, Bro. My nips are twisty fresh up here, and you should see the size of my dick."

He laughs. "Lil' dude, you are a riot and a half." He gestures. "Closer to the edge there, gotta have the right angle to spread you open nice and good."

You silently oblige, scooting to the edge and taking half of the comforter with you. True to his words, his grabs your legs and spreads them open, pressing the blunt tip of his dick against your too-tight, unprepared cunt. (He won't fuck you in the ass. You've asked, but he says he likes your bonus hole more. Fuckin' jerk.)

Even with the condom's built-in lube, he barely gets the tip in at first. It takes some creative angling and fishing around with his dick to pull out enough moisture to slide all the way in, and it fucking _hurts_ , your body is not _made_ for this. Even the should-be-negligible rings on the condoms hurt with every thrust. Every time, you feel like he's ripping you open. It's too big, it's too big, it's too _big_. You clench your teeth and whimper.

"Yeah, y'like that, don't ya? Like it when your big bro takes care of you, spreads you open and pins you down, fucks that little whorish man-pussy?"

"I'm not a goddamn _whore_ , Bro." God, you very well could be though. If it wasn't for him letting you stay here, taking care of you, you'd be out on the streets as just another transgender prostitute statistic looking for someone to blow. You're _his_ whore for staying here, you guess, so you can't really be hypocritical. You're just glad he hasn't brought in a trans girl (or another person at all) and put you in a 'fuck or get the fuck out of my house' situation. Probably while filming.

You want to puke at the thought of him subjecting someone else to this. You shake, and your mind goes a bit blank, and you push him away and claw at his back without thinking.

"Hot damn, I love it when you put up a fight." He puts on an act for most of this shit, makes it out like he's the Big Damn Hero for not disrespecting your gender, but sometimes he slips up and says shit like that that makes it crystal fucking clear he just wants to use you, just gets his sick kicks off fucking his little brother and slapping him around, playing with his mind.

He rolls you over and grins. "Well, go on, I'll let you be on top. Better be good, though."

God, you want to punch him so hard his sideburns fall off. But you've tried fighting him before, _really_ fighting, and it was. Well, a lot worse than this. You swallow the bile in your throat and moan like you're turned on, hoping it will get him there faster. The pace does pick up a bit, and you bounce your ass up and down obediently despite the fact that he's already painfully bottoming out at your cervix. There's probably a good inch or two of him that just won't _fit_ your tiny frame.

Bro beckons you down with a jerk of his head. "C'mere, kiddo. Lemme suck those pert little moobs of yours."

You clench your teeth and bounce extra hard, trying to hurt his incestuous skeeve-dick to show your displeasure at the idea, but all it hurts is you. You close your eyes and stretch out over him, giving him access to your tits. He has to stretch his neck a bit to grab one, but he wastes no time going to town on it while shifting positions so he can hammer your aching pussy harder. 

He doesn't tease, he doesn't lick, he doesn't nibble. He takes the whole goddamn nipple in at once and sucks like he's wringing precious water out of a wet towel in the desert. And fuck you, but this actually turns you on. You don't hate your nipples, you hate those useless sacks of fat underneath them, and you were blessed and cursed with super-sensitive tits. With every suck, you can feel yourself getting wetter, looser, and you're not goddamn sure why he doesn't just do this at the beginning to lube you up.

Shit, maybe you _are_ a whore. You do this every time he sucks you like this. Your clit hardens to its full 2 inches, you loosen up, and on a few occasions you've actually orgasmed. You're fucking sick, and you have nobody to blame for this one but yourself.

Bro switches to the other nipple, pinching and twisting the one he was just on. You moan, for real this time.

He pulls back, stubble scratching across your areola, and growls out a "fuck, I love it when you're desperate." He abandons your tits entirely and flips you over again, throwing your legs over his shoulders and kinking your back up worse than a binder ever would. He pistons hard inside of you, going deeper and deeper, and god, you're screaming, "no, no, god, it's too deep, Bro, FUCK, STOP!" as he goes balls deep, pounding parts of your anatomy into shapes they were never meant to make.

His thrusts go erratic as you kick at his shoulders, and he thrusts into you one last time, his balls tightening up and dick pulsing inside of you. You can feel the pressure against your bruised cervix, and you allow yourself one brief little sob of agony while he's grunting, hoping he doesn't hear.

He pushes himself off of you with the relieved sort of "ahhhh" that shitty TV dads make when someone hands them a beer, and you note, when he lands dick-side up, that he doesn't have a condom on.

Your throat tightens.

"Bro."

"Yeah, lil' man?"

"Where. Is the motherfucking. Condom."

He gestures vaguely. "Think it may have landed on the needle, I dunno. Maybe the smuppets got a surprise delivery."

You're freaked out enough that you grab him and shake him so hard his glasses fall off. They're back on within seconds, but he looks fucking _amused_ , like it's a fucking _joke_.

"You can't _do_ that. There are _so many reasons_ you can't do that. Why would you _do_ that!?" Your voice is getting shrill, and you cut yourself off before he calls you girly. You stick a finger in your cunt. It comes out covered in thick white cum, and you are fucking _terrified_.

"Eh. What's life without a little risk?"

Fuck. God, no. You could be _pregnant_. You could be pregnant with an _incestuous hatechild_. You could be headed for Jerry Springer at breakneck speed. You could be trying to get an abortion in fucking _Texas_. 

Can you get pregnant? You don't - fuck, you don't usually have periods, sometimes you spot a little but it's not enough to need a pad or shit, can you get pregnant if you don't _really_ have periods? Screw Texas 'sex ed' in its tight, prude little asshole! You know better than to expect them to teach trans healthcare 101, but god, you should have at least a vague idea if your brother could have just knocked you up!

Bro leans over and murmurs at you so closely and unexpectedly that you actually jump a little in place. "Tell you what. Beg me to come in that pretty little pussy for the next...let's say five, six times? And I'll get you top surgery. You know I like to spice shit up. Whadda ya say?"

No. Yes. No. _No_ , not even top surgery is worth that, what the absolute fuck is wrong with either of you!?

"Yeah, well. We'll see, I guess," you manage to choke out. He might do it anyways. You'll wait it out, see if he does. If he does, after researching a little, you might toss your remaining dignity and beg for your brother's cum like a little slut. He may be an asshole, but he's never lied to you about a 'reward' for your 'services.'

"Thanks for the injection, Bro!" He calls out, mocking you, as you gather your shit and shuffle over to the door.

You pause. He expects to hear it back. You force it out. "Thanks...for the injection, Bro." You're pretty sure he laughs as you leave.

When the door is closed, you put your head in your hands. You want to scream. Your clit is still hard and it rubs against your labia while you walk, your binder is covered in cum that dripped between your thighs while you were picking stuff up, and you really, _really_ need a goddamn shower. You throw your clothes straight in the washing machine on your way in, without realizing you need to pick up more. Who even fucking cares about clothes, at this point?

Being in the shower gives you zero more hints about how to actually deal with this. Do you - how do you do this, do you just let the rest drip down, do you stick a finger up there and try to pull it out, do you spray yourself with the showerhead? (God you detest yourself for wanting to get off with the showerhead right now, even though you know it's just physical. You decide against it, because you think you heard somewhere that orgasms pull sperm into the womb or some shit. Maybe. You really should have looked this up.)

Eventually you just let as much drip out as you can, then squat against the shower wall and spread yourself with one hand while slowly guiding it out with the other. You try really, really hard not to push any further inside as you go back in for another round. You also try really, really hard not to break down.

Even when you're fingering out your brother's cum, you keep your face as neutral as possible.

Yeah, he's a little abusive, but... Guys can't get raped. Guys don't cry.

And you're a guy, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> In other news, it's my own 1.5-year T anniversary in four days. Should have waited to post this. Couldn't be arsed. Oh, well.
> 
> The fic is [here](http://solluxisms.tumblr.com/post/147233239195/testosterone-aewin-homestuck-archive-of-our) on tumblr, if you'd like to share. My blog is full of Homestuck, ducks, and some social justice, all well-tagged. I don't get involved in wank.


End file.
